“Help Me, Please!”

The prison door looms before the trembling young man. A tall, muscular guard stands rooted beside it, daring anyone to approach or escape from it. The young man shudders, stepping backwards. He shakes his head in disbelief: never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would come to this!

On that faraway day when he had heisted the money from his boss, all he could think about was the big city. Bright lights. Fast life. The teeming city where he could lose himself in the secrecy of his dreams. The city that was miles away from the stifling control of his so-called Christian boss. 

But it didn’t quite turn out as hoped. Oh, he had fun—for a while. But he was no match for the sharpies who thronged around him as friends, milked him for all he was worth, then left him with only the clothes on his back when he could not cough up anything of worth.

“How could I have been such a fool?” he now laments. “I traded good for evil, peace for despair, safety for danger. How could anyone accept me after what I did to my master? The money I stole is more than I can repay in 10 lifetimes of work!”

This, I imagine, was the young slave’s predicament when he wavered outside that prison cell of a man from whom he wanted help. Had he gone too far? Was there no balm in Gilead; was there no physician to heal his sin-sick soul? Had even God forsaken him? 

This one thing he knew: If the tried-and-true man of God from whom he desired help told the guard to shut the door in his face, then all was indeed lost! 

Philemon—The Play

Such is the backstory of the drama occurring in a biblical letter. Usually in a discussion of drama or plays, the names of biblical writers do not come to mind. Others, instead, do—such as England’s William Shakespeare or Norway’s Henrik Ibsen; America’s Arthur Miller or Nigeria’s Wole Soyinka; India’s Rabindranath Tagore or Japan’s Hisashi Inoue. We will here focus on a biblical work that surpasses any of theirs, for, while it is not composed as an actual play, its contents are dramatic, having been inspired by the Holy Spirit, the Author of all truly good literature. 

Let’s analyze it according to a typical play’s contents. The letter’s title is simply “Philemon,” and its setting is first-century Rome, mostly inside the prison cell of a notable political prisoner. The theme is a riveting one, as it involves an issue of life and death: a slave has stolen money from his master,[1] run away to Rome, and is, therefore, in desperate need of help, for if captured, he could face a torturous death. The theme highlights a desired reconciliation with his master and his need for an advocate to help him get it. Ironically, he is seeking it from someone inside a prison cell! The slave is Onesimus, a major character in the drama.

Philemon, another major character, is the Colossian slaveholder from whom Onesimus absconded with the stolen goods. Several other people are minor characters, operating only in the letter’s background. There is Apphia, presumably Philemon’s wife, and Archippus, likely their adult son who helps his father run the little church that meets in their home in Colossae. Others, according to the letter’s closing, are Epaphras, the letter writer’s fellow prisoner, as well as Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke, whom the writer calls “my fellow laborers.”

The author of “Philemon,” and the last of its major characters, is the apostle Paul. If anyone has had a checkered past, it is certainly Paul. While young, this self-described violent man abhorred the fledgling Christian church, viciously persecuting its members, even hounding them to distant cities so he could bring them back to Jerusalem, bound, to face a fate of prison or death. Amazingly, while on one of his trips to capture such runaway “heretics,” he experiences a life-changing vision from the church’s risen Founder, Jesus Christ, who had been crucified a few years before. After his resultant conversion, he is aided by Barnabas, a compassionate Christian who helps him become accepted by the initially suspicious Christians, and he becomes an untiring evangelist for the church, winning thousands across the Roman world to Christ. Predictably, his work incites the ire of Jewish and Roman officials, who treat him even worse than he had treated Christians when he was their persecutor. He puts it this way:

“From the Jews five times I received forty stripes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods; once I was stoned; three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I have been in the deep; in journeys often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils of my own countrymen, in perils of the Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and toil, in sleeplessness often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness—besides the other things, what comes upon me daily: my deep concern for all the churches” (2 Cor. 11:24-28). 

If the tried and true man of God from whom he desired help told the guard to shut the door in his face, then all was indeed lost!

The Plot

Now that we’ve established the list of characters, let’s jump to the play’s action or plot. The elderly and now-imprisoned Paul is facing the young man who has stolen valuables from one of the evangelist’s Gentile converts, whom he calls a “beloved friend and fellow laborer” (Philemon 1). What will Paul, the evangelist, do? Will he give the runaway a piece of his mind for betraying a slaveholder who operated differently from the generally cruel slaveholders in the Roman Empire? Will he betray him?

Onesimus is in for a surprise, for Paul treats the wayward, hopeless Colossian slave in much the same way that God treats every sinner who approaches Him for help. In doing so, Paul represents a most powerful symbol in this ancient drama. No doubt remembering the dejected slave before him as the lively young man with whom he had often interacted when staying at Philemon’s house, Paul graciously accepts him. Similarly, with a Father’s love, God sees and accepts every repentant sinner, however fallen, not only as the creature of His hand, but also as a perfect candidate for heaven. In fact, Jesus asserts, “All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out” (John 6:37). 

Reflecting Jesus’ mediation for the sinner before a holy, sin-hating God, Paul implores Philemon, “I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, whom I have begotten while in my chains. . . . I am sending him back. You therefore receive him, that is, my own heart” (Philemon 10-12). Imagine that: Paul loves Onesimus! Ellen White observes of this reciprocal devotion, “Onesimus endeared himself to Paul by his piety and sincerity, no less than by his tender care for the apostle’s comfort, and his zeal in promoting the work of the gospel.”[2]

Like Jesus, though, Paul knows that advocacy is not enough; talk is cheap. Action is needed—action that is wedded to the holy dimensions of his words. Therefore he offers himself in the place of Onesimus, saying, “If then you count me as a partner, receive him as you would me” (Philemon 17). He wants Philemon, who owes his very life to Paul’s missionary efforts on his behalf, to treat the indebted slave Onesimus as Philemon would gratefully treat Paul, his benefactor. 

Then, in another amazing exchange, Paul offers to take Onesimus’ debts or deficiencies: “But if he has wronged you or owes anything, put that on my account. I, Paul, am writing with my own hand. I will repay” (verses 18, 19). Truly Paul is reflecting the One who took our enormous debt of sinfulness upon Himself. Of Him it is written, “But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed” (Isa. 53:5). Therefore, when God looks upon anyone who has accepted His Son as his substitute, He does not see the indescribable sinfulness of that person; He sees only the indescribable righteousness of His Son who has exchanged places with the repentant sinner. 

Of this amazing exchange, Ellen White amplifies, “Christ was treated as we deserve, that we might be treated as He deserves. He was condemned for our sins, in which He had no share, that we might be justified by His righteousness, in which we had no share. He suffered the death which was ours, that we might receive the life which was His. ‘With His stripes we are healed.’”[3]

Just as Paul movingly symbolizes God’s part in the plan of salvation, Onesimus, for his part, portrays the sinner’s role in it. Yearning to begin again, the repentant Onesimus recognizes his great need of help. But he does not deceive himself by thinking that his condition is good when it is dangerously deplorable. He knows he needs help—and he needs it right away! Having betrayed his master, he is in very serious trouble. The Seventh-day Adventist Bible Commentaryexplains, “The punishment for running away was often death, sometimes by crucifixion or by being thrown to voracious lampreys in a fishpond.”[4] To avoid this terrifying fate, Onesimus needs someone to put him in his master’s good graces; he needs a go-between; he needs an advocate. Through Paul, God met all of these needs, including his most dire need—the need of a Savior, to whom Paul points him, since Onesimus cannot save himself. 

Beyond recognizing his need, Onesimus also illustrates a cardinal feature in every repenting sinner’s life: faith. Unable to bring about the much-desired reconciliation himself, he has to believe that Paul’s mediation on his behalf will be effective. He cannot dictate what Paul should say to Philemon; he has to accept what Paul would say, for Paul has more clout with Philemon than he does. This trust needs to be translated into action, however. As Uriah of old carried a weighty letter on his behalf to General Joab (see 2 Sam. 11:14), so Onesimus has to carry Paul’s letter on his behalf to Philemon. His letter, however, will not result in death, as Uriah’s did for him on the battlefield (see verse 15); it will result in a new life, reconciling him with God in heaven and Philemon on earth. Spiritually, such an outcome awaits anyone who actively trusts in the all-sufficient mediation of Jesus and humbly, actively claims Jesus’ merits as his.

In His indescribable love for a vacillating young man, God reached down from heaven and used someone to help rescue me.

With such a wedding of God’s part and humanity’s part in the plan of salvation, what are its far-reaching results? In a word: peace. Peace. Peace. Wonderful peace. Peace that comes down from the Father above. Peace that heals the ancient fracture separating humanity from God and people from each other. Peace that is reflected in a growing, daily walk with God that encompasses justification and sanctification now, and that will include glorification soon. As David rejoices:

“Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, 

Whose sin is covered. 

Blessed is the man to whom the Lord does not impute iniquity, 

And in whose spirit there is no deceit” (Ps. 32:1). 

What about Onesimus? What happened to him after he left Paul and Rome for Philemon and Colossae? According to Nelson’s New Illustrated Bible Commentary, “the New Testament does not reveal what finally happened to Onesimus. Some have taken him to be the Onesimus who eventually became the bishop of Ephesus, mentioned by Ignatius in the early second century.”[5] Be that as it may, we can safely say that on the basis of his faith, Onesimus experienced the truth of Habbakuk 2:4: “The just shall live by his faith.” Or, as John 3:16 so soothingly puts it: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

More Than a Play

To me, “Philemon” is more than a drama written around A.D. 60. Its content played itself out in my own life when, as a 16-year-old, I stood with a tent meeting audience in Nassau, Bahamas. Evangelist H. A. Roach had made an appeal for us to be reconciled with God—in short, to follow Jesus. To show our determination to do so all the way, we were to move silently to the tent’s front as the piano played. Like Onesimus, I balked; I had never done anything so audacious in the Baptist church in which I was reared. Yet I wanted to go forward; I did love Jesus. Yet as a timid, gangly teenager, I hesitated.

Then in the darkened tent I felt a nudge at my elbow. It was Sister Genovia Florvil, my Bible worker. Her calm face radiated love—love for me. “Derek,” she whispered, “wouldn’t you like to go forward?” That was all it took. I fairly ran to the front and was shortly thereafter baptized, becoming a member of God’s remnant church.

In the intervening years Sister Florvil questioned encouraging me to go forward. Was she out of place? Did she infringe on my God-given power of choice as an individual? Categorically not, I assured her! She was but obeying that same Holy Spirit whom Ananias of ancient Damascus obeyed. Approaching Paul the struggling former persecutor on a one-to-one basis, he gently encouraged, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus . . . has sent me that you may reeive your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 9:17). 

Praise God that He sent Sister Florvil to me in my own struggles! In His indescribable love for a vacillating young man, He reached down from heaven and used her to help rescue me. It is because she willingly went when God sent her that I am a Christian today! 

Of course, we are all recipients of God’s saving grace. Consequently, He has “given us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor. 5:18). Our responsibility is to imitate Paul’s mediating spirit in this regard. Just as God used him to bring the drama in “Philemon” to a heavenly conclusion, so does He want to use us. 

First, let us open our heart’s door so that Jesus may come in and dine with us and we with Him (cf. Rev. 3:20). Let’s allow Him to clothe us “with the garments of salvation” and to cover us “with [His] robe of righteousness” (Isa. 61:10). Then let us obey the gospel commission that Paul so vividly portrayed: “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matt. 28:19).

In that way we can help to hasten Jesus’ second coming and bring sin and suffering to a complete end. With compassion, integrity, and unselfishness gracing our work for others, let us live as Christ’s ambassadors! Let us be examples “to [them] in word, in conduct, in love, in spirit, in faith, in purity” (1 Tim. 4:12). 

Yes, the world needs our financial contributions. Yes, it needs our gifts of food, clothing, medicine, and housing. But it also needs our constant, mediatory, and inclusive prayers. It needs our unfailing love. The world needs our forgiving, helpful spirits. In short, the world needs us to be like Christ—His witnesses—for He has commissioned us to be His hands, His feet, His voice, for today’s world has yet to see what this looks like in a vast, corporate group. 

So, my beloved brothers and sisters, let us pledge, by God’s grace, to be His living dramas, showing the world that they too can be reconciled to Christ; that they too can be united with Him; that they too can be eternally saved. May this be a reality every day on the stage of our lives! 

[1] While the Scriptures never explicitly state this, it is widely believed to be the case.

[2] Ellen G, White, The Acts of the Apostles (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1911). p. 456.

[3] Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1898, 1940), p. 25.

[4] The Seventh day Adventist Bible Commentary (Washington, D.C.: Review and Herald Pub. Assn., 1957, 1980), vol. 7, p. 376.

[5] Earl D. Radmacher, Ronald Barclay Allen, H. Wayne House, Philemon, Nelson’s New Illustrated Bible Commentary (Thomas Nelson, 1999).